


And The Curtains Fall

by SiaCatGirl



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiaCatGirl/pseuds/SiaCatGirl
Summary: A short drabble featuring Keebo





	And The Curtains Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt inspired today, that's all.

Once upon a time, in a place where a mighty bridge connects the hills divided by the holy river, there lived a sorcerer, famous across the land as one of the few in the world of magic with the ability to bring to life things of metal and clockwork. And the highlight of his prowess was his most prized creation, a boy with a body as complicated as the inner workings of the Central Clock Tower itself and a mind that saw the world with the same curiosity and sense of wonder as a young child would. The Great Sorcerer would even go so far as to claim he was bestowed a human soul by the stars themselves.

Maybe that's why he named the boy Keebo - the word that means "hope" in the now dead language of the land.

Keebo was his creator's pride and joy - years of magical research, experience, and hard work, all combined into a single person. Most people would look at him and see a living doll. A puppet with the ability to talk. But to the sorcerer, he will always remain his beloved child.

Unfortunately, there were also people who wanted this technical wonder for themselves. People, willing to do anything to attain it.

They staged a surprise attack on the sorcerer's tower, intended to serve as a distraction so another person could sneak in and grab the defenseless creature. To their surprise, the boy, as weak as he was, put up enough resistance to alert his father. But the attackers saw this as a perfect opportunity to turn the tables in their favor. A split second of the sorcerer turning his attention away was all it took to send a powerful spell right into his body. In the end, the man lived, but his arms and hands were severely damaged. Even with proper healing magic, there was a possibility he would never practice magic again.

The boy blamed himself ceaselessly for letting his creator come to harm.

It didn't help that the evil men only exacerbated that feeling inside him.

They offered the boy a deal. If he comes with them and does everything as he's told, they'll revert the damage they've done. To convince him, they made the sorcerer's fever go away. And thus, he compelled.

The job wasn't too hard - most of the time he had to dance on the theatre stage or take part in small plays set out for the public. As long as they were enjoying it, it was more than enough. Turned out the boy was quite a profound dancer. It's just a shame that his limbs were always pulled around by a set of strings. Invisible strings he could almost feel but never touch and never cut away.

Oh, how much he wanted to go back home, at least for a day. To see his creator again, to hug him, ask how he's doing. Alas, that was never meant to happen, not unless the owners of the theater said so. The place where he now had to live, along with 15 other kids. Some of them were orphans, like the purple-haired boy who liked pulling pranks on everyone, or the red-eyed girl who would sometimes make sure nobody misbehaved. Others were runaways, like the loud kid who would boast about his dream of flying under starts or the quiet kid with a dark hat sitting in the corner. Together they made something like a makeshift family. That didn't make him feel any less homesick.

But nobody was allowed to know that. The only one who probably knew the whole truth was the daughter of one of its owners, and even then he couldn't be sure. To everyone, be it the fellow troupers or the outside world, he was just a fancy addition to the repertoire to spark up the publicity. Not a word of his actual reasons for being here. Hide the pain behind the pale, smooth face and pretend you're just hearing voices. Just like that girl that says a god is speaking to her all the time.

It was easier for him to detach himself from his inner turmoils on stage. Easier to cling to the superficial emotions of his character or twirl to the blonde girl's piano melodies. Not as easy behind the scenes, where it becomes much harder to tell if the emotions he so openly displays are indeed his or yet another mask to hide behind. How shall a puppet ever know?

The blue-haired girl comes up to him. Says her father and his friends want to talk to him. What is it this time? Usually, when he's called down to the owners' room, it's either a quick maintenance check from a local clockmaker or because he accidentally screwed up during a show. But the last performance went smoothly, the eager clapping from the audience was proof of that. If it's neither, then... what?

No time to dawdle, he tells himself. Assumptions are all but meaningless. Better get going now before that girl with a rude tongue decides to tinker with his gears again. Or before the ones calling for him get mad for wasting their time.

But in his hurry to get to the lower floor, he doesn't notice the quiet kid with a dark hat look around to make sure he isn't watched, carefully close the door to the staircase behind him and follow the boy down on his tiptoes...

**Author's Note:**

> Musical inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ms_eH7rHEPo


End file.
